Rag Doll in the Attic

by Jan Fields

  She found she liked the extremes of temperature, as long as she had a cozy room at Gram’s to head home to. “So far, Boots only asks for food,” she said, pulling herself back to the here and now. “But she does ask for it often.”

  “Are you sure I can’t lure you away for coffee and a rousing game of who has the most difficult pet? I’ll spot you ten points for the litter box. I really don’t ever want to be around a litter box.” His smile was teasing as he folded his arms across his chest.

  “Sounds like fun, but I really do have to run. This project is a new one for me. Since I made it through the sweater I crocheted for myself in the fall, I’ve let Kate talk me into something totally over my head. It’s all lace and beads. I know Joanna will love it, if I don’t end up with a big snarly mess.” She took a calming breath as she realized she might be stressing out the tiniest bit over the sweater. She patted Ian’s arm. “I’ll take a rain check on the coffee.”

  Ian agreed with a smile, and Annie hurried down the street. She hoped she wasn’t being selfish to ask Kate to concentrate on her project during the meeting. Kate Stevens worked at A Stitch in Time and made some of the most fantastic crocheted clothing that Annie had ever seen. She had suggested all the embellishments and extra details for this ambitious birthday present for Joanna.

  Annie peeked through the wide storefront window, just below the stenciled store name: A Stitch in Time. She saw the circle of overstuffed armchairs were nearly full. Everyone had gotten to the meeting before her.

  Annie pulled open the frosted-glass door, hearing the tinkle of the small bell that rang constantly throughout the summer and could be counted on to ring now and then during their meetings. The needlecraft shop was very popular with tourists and locals alike, both because it had a beautiful selection of yarns and fabrics, and because the owner Mary Beth Brock was as warm and friendly as she was shrewd about business. The gorgeous crocheted clothes on mannequins all over the shop, designed and made by Kate, didn’t hurt business either. Annie suspected that one of the smartest business decisions Mary Beth had made was hiring the talented young woman as an assistant.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Annie said as she hurried to the empty chair next to Kate.

  “You’re only late if you don’t come at all,” Peggy Carson said, looking up from the small book cover she was quilting. Peggy had told them at the last meeting that her little girl, Emily, had asked for her own diary, and Peggy wanted to make a very personal one, so she’d started the darling pink cover to slip over a blank notebook. Alice was surprised to see Peggy had already done so much. Peggy’s projects were notoriously slow, and she was often late for meetings as she had to slip them into her breaks at The Cup & Saucer where she worked long hours. Yet none of that seemed to dull the young woman’s cheerful curiosity. “Alice tells us you have a new mystery.”

  Annie blinked and looked across at her friend. “I do?”

  “The mystery of the mashing cat,” Alice intoned in an ominous voice, then giggled. “Unless it’s the mystery of the fuzzy nightmare.”

  The group laughed and even the normally austere Stella Brickson looked up from her knitting and allowed a small smile to slip across her patrician face. “I don’t think Boots counts as a mystery,” Annie said. “I’m mystery free unless you count the mystery of how I’ll get this jacket done in time for the twins’ birthday party. This has to be the scariest project I’ve ever worked on.”

  “I don’t know,” Gwendolyn Palmer said, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve jumped into some pretty scary projects since you came back to Stony Point.”

  Annie nodded. “OK, scariest crochet project.”

  Kate leaned closer to look at the stitches in the rose-colored jacket front. “You’ve done very well,” she said. “You’re almost to the part where you’ll begin working in the beads.”

  “And that’s why I need you,” Annie said. “I’m not sure how to handle the stitch tension as I work in the beads. I’m definitely never going to be able to compete with the gorgeous clothes you make. I’m terrified of messing this up.”

  “You just don’t give yourself enough credit,” Kate said, and she walked Annie through the first row of beading.

  The group worked on their different projects with only occasional conversation for nearly half an hour. A small group of women came in, and Mary Beth jumped up to wait on them since Kate was tied up with helping Annie. Finally, Mary Beth settled back in her seat. “Actually, I know a mystery,” she said with her pixie-like smile. “And I’d love to hear the answer, Annie.”

  Annie looked up. “What’s that?”

  “Are you going to be coming back to us after the birthday party?” Mary Beth asked. Annie noticed that all of the women had stopped their work to look at Annie avidly. Apparently this was a question that every member of the Hook and Needle Club—including Annie—had on her mind.

  “I don’t know,” Annie sighed. “I want to. I’m sure I will, but then I think about Texas and LeeAnn and the kids … and I’m back to not knowing.”

  As she finished speaking, the bell tinkled over the door again and Mary Beth jumped up. This time, they all recognized the blond woman who stepped through the door and pushed her oversized glasses up on her nose nervously as she looked at the group. Valerie Duffy was one of the librarians from the Stony Point Public Library. “I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting,” she said, looking around the daunting ring of women in the overstuffed chairs.

  “It’s not a problem, Valerie.” Mary Beth’s bright smile could make anyone feel at home. “I didn’t know you did needlecrafts.”

  “I don’t,” Valerie said. “That’s why I was hoping you ladies could help me. I’ve been running around trying to do two jobs since our children’s librarian retired.”

  Even Stella laid down her knitting to look at Valerie with interest, and Mary Beth nodded. “If this is about the summer reading program, I would be glad to do a small craft program with the kids. We had fun with them last year, and they seemed to enjoy the bookmarks we made.”

  Valerie smiled. “I’m glad. I was hoping you would. But I have a little bigger favor to ask.” She pulled a large doll from her satchel. “We’re having a writing contest this year and giving prizes to the winners. For the girl prize on the elementary level, we were planning to buy a doll that tied into some kind of book theme, but the library budget is a bit tight this year.” She paused. “I was hoping you or the ladies in your group could make a book-themed outfit for this doll? Then we could give it as a prize.”

  “Oh, that sounds like fun,” Kate said, jumping up from her chair and hurrying over to look at the doll. She ran her hand over the doll’s long dark hair. “I made doll clothes for Vanessa’s dolls until she grew too old to appreciate them anymore.”

  “That’s just wonderful,” Valerie said, relief clear on her face. “I know you’ll do something a little girl would love. Oh, I almost forgot. I have one more favor!”

  “Let me guess,” Alice said. “Cross-stitch bookmarks for all the kids?”

  Peggy laughed and joined in. “No, I bet it’s quilted book covers.”

  Stella waved a hand at the younger women, though her eyes were twinkling. As the matriarch of their group, she often felt the need to tone down any excessive high spirits. “Maybe we should let Valerie tell us.”

  “Nothing so big,” Valerie assured them. “I’m planning a display of old toys for the big glass case in the children’s room. I’m asking everyone to check their attics and storage to see if they have anything they could lend us for the display.”

  Annie and Alice looked at each other. “Gram’s tea set would be perfect,” Annie said.

  “Back to the attic!” Alice announced.

  “That’s wonderful,” Valerie said, smiling at each of them. “Attics can just be a gold mine, can’t they?”

  She looked surprised as all the women of the Hook and Needle Club laughed.

  3

  Rain soaks the three yo
ung girls to the skin in seconds, turning their skirts into sodden rags that cling to their legs. The wind turns from cold to icy in an instant. The girl with the doll clutched to her chest stumbles backward down the road, blinking at the rain falling into her eyes from her fringe of bangs. “This is stupid,” she says, gasping from the cold. “I just want to go home, Jo!”

  “We’re almost there,” the tall girl answers, her long forward strides turning into a trudge through mud. “If we don’t touch the lighthouse, we came all this way for nothing. Come on, Jenny, don’t chicken out now.”

  “I’m not chicken,” Jenny shouts.

  The third girl’s light hair clings to her face, darkened by the rain. She tugs on her tall friend’s arm. “This isn’t fun anymore. I think we should just go home.”

  “Look, it’s right there,” Jo says, pointing off into the darkness. “Right there. Let’s just do it.” She turns angrily and stomps toward the lighthouse. “I’m not going back to school and admit that we were too chicken to touch a wall. You guys have to decide if you want the Wild Jays to be a legend or a joke.”

  The blond girl smiles slightly at the younger. “You wait here,” she says kindly. “It’ll be fine. We’ll run up and touch it. That will count for all three of us.”

  “I don’t care about what counts anymore,” the younger girl says. “We shouldn’t have come.”

  The blonde pats her arm, and then turns and races up the hill. As she passes the porch, she hears the jingle of dog tags. The lighthouse keeper’s dog is following her, she can hear the tags jingling closer and closer. The jingling seems so loud …

  Annie woke with a start as the jingling of the dog tags became the ringing of the phone. She looked at the alarm clock beside the bed and realized she’d overslept again after another bad night.

  She groped for the phone and sat up as she brought it to her ear. A heavily accented voice on the other end began telling her the benefits of new carefree siding for her home. “Actually, the siding is just fine on both my houses,” she said. “Thank you.” Then she hung up before the young man could launch into a new pitch.

  “At least I’m up,” she said quietly as she slipped her feet into her slippers. Boots poked her head around the corner and greeted her with a quizzical meow.

  “Thanks for not waking me with chest compressions this morning,” Annie said.

  Boots padded into the room and rubbed against Annie’s ankles as she shrugged into her robe. “I believe I dreamed about a dog last night,” she teased the gray cat. “I hope you’re not too jealous.”

  Boots showed no sign of jealousy as she led the way to the kitchen for their morning tea and crunchies.

  Annie and Alice had a date after lunch to search the attic for the tea set and any other toys that might be packed away. Until then, Annie planned to transfer several flats of pansies into low, round planters fashioned to look like wooden barrels. The flowers would add instant color to several spots in the yard that seemed a bit bare. She slipped into her gardening outfit of cropped jeans and a paint-splattered T-shirt she’d accidentally adorned while repainting the kitchen. The yummy golden vanilla looked great in the kitchen but slightly less attractive on the sleeves and hem of the blue shirt. She pulled her fine blond hair into a loose ponytail and stepped out on the front porch.

  The day was gray and the haze had turned to chilly rain. Annie wrapped her arms around herself and realized she’d need a jacket just to stand on the porch for long. She definitely didn’t want to try to plant in this weather. At least she didn’t have to worry about the pansies drying out. Annie looked out at the gloom and the rain, and shivered as another nudge of déjà vu prodded her.

  The rain made her feel anxious and unsettled. Or maybe it was the thought of making the final decision about Stony Point. She certainly didn’t want her wishy-washy behavior to last a full year—Gram would have been horrified at Annie putting it off so long, and Wayne would have told her to “make a decision and commit to it.” In some way, she felt a bit like she was letting them down, shifting back and forth. She knew it was time to choose.

  When she was a kid visiting Gram, Annie had always felt crushingly sad when she’d gone home and left Stony Point behind. She and Alice always concocted the craziest schemes at the end of summer. Though Annie had to admit, Alice was much better at coming up with wild ideas than she was. More than once, Annie had left for Texas without getting to say goodbye to her best friend, because Alice was grounded after some crazy adventure of theirs ended in disaster. It always felt as if they had to cram a whole year into those last weeks each summer.

  If she decided to stay in Texas, these would be her last weeks of living at Grey Gables. She should fill the days with fun and friends instead of indecision and worry. Maybe she’d even try a wild idea or two with Alice.

  Thinking of Alice brought her back to the attic. She’d planned to wait for Alice before searching for the tea set, but she was too restless to curl up with a book or to work on her crochet. She would just dash up and collect the tea set since she knew where it was, and maybe earmark some of the most likely boxes to check for other toys.

  When she reached the top of the attic stairs and looked around, she sighed. She’d already spent hours up here, putting the attic in order. She had to admit that she hadn’t gotten rid of much, but at least most of the boxes were sorted and labeled. Or so she’d thought.

  As she looked over the crowded attic, there were still so many chests and boxes she hadn’t opened. She’d hoped to finish sorting and organizing all the boxes and trunks in the attic before heading to Texas for her grandchildren’s birthday party, but every day was so full of things to do that this task kept getting pushed aside.

  She slipped through the maze of boxes until she reached the old bird’s-eye maple dressing table where she’d left the tea set when they first unearthed it. The small wicker basket with the miniature moss-rose tea set inside still rested right on top. Annie was pleased to see it hadn’t begun collecting dust yet. She turned the tarnished latch on the basket and looked at the tiny cups and saucers nestled in the blue gingham lining of the basket. The set would look lovely in a display, set up as if inviting the viewer to join a tea party.

  Someday, she planned to give the set to her granddaughter, but with John as Joanna’s main playmate right now, Annie suspected the tiny dishes wouldn’t last long. Maybe next year. Maybe she should wait until the tea set could be more of a family heirloom than a plaything.

  Annie turned and looked over the rest of the attic. Would it be enough to simply send the one item for the library display? She hadn’t actually run across any other toys during her searches of the attic, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, nestled among all the other mysteries in the unopened past.

  Rain drummed on the roof over her head as she leaned on the dressing table. The gloom outside pressed against the attic windows, deepening the shadows inside. Even though Annie had done a lot to clean the attic, it was still a creepy place to spend a rainy morning alone.

  Suddenly Annie heard a rustle from the far corner where a dressmaker’s mannequin stood. The mannequin was swathed from top to bottom in a white sheet that was now yellowed with age and dust, giving it the impression of a shroud. On top of the headless mannequin, someone had tossed a sorry-looking hat that had been decorated with silk cabbage roses and trailing ribbons that were now wilted and faded.

  As she heard another rustle, Annie shuddered. Surely more mice hadn’t moved into the house? She’d thought her handyman, Wally Carson, had solved the problem and blocked up their entry points to the house, but she knew there were few creatures more tenacious than mice.

  Then, as she peered into the gloom, the hat on top of the mannequin turned slowly as if the wrapped figure were turning to look at her. Annie’s hand flew to her chest, and she gasped in the dusty air. Just then, she heard a familiar sneeze.

  “Boots,” Annie scolded. “You scared me half to death.” She slipped through the boxes and
spotted the gray cat in the shadows, batting at one of the trailing ribbons on the hat. Annie scooped up the cat and gave her a gentle hug. “Who needs ghosts when I have you?” she asked.

  “Annie!”

  Annie turned toward the stairs and hurried across the attic, still cradling the purring cat. “Alice?” she called down. “I’m already in the attic. Come on up!”

  Alice appeared at the top of the stairs wearing very uncharacteristic faded jeans, a long button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a bandanna covering most of her shoulder-length auburn hair. “You started without me,” she said shaking a finger at Annie with a mock pout.

  “Not really. I haven’t opened anything except the wicker basket with the tea set,” Annie said. She lifted the cat slightly in her arms. “I was interrupted by a haunting.”

  “Oh?” Alice’s eyes flashed with curiosity that turned to laughter as Annie told her about Boots playing ghost for her. “Oh, that reminds me of the stormy afternoons we spent up here scaring each other half to death with ghost stories.”

  Annie shook her head smiling. “And you know, I don’t think I remember a single one of them.”

  “Really? I remember them all. My favorite was the lighthouse ghosts. You must remember that one.”

  Annie wrinkled her forehead as she thought. “Something about a curse, right?”

  “You do remember,” Alice said, slipping by Annie to point out the far attic window toward the coastline. “Anyone who dares to touch the lighthouse without invitation on a stormy night will be haunted by the wailing ghosts of the cliffs before dawn.”

  Annie nodded as she gently put Boots on the floor. “That does sound familiar now. I’m surprised you never tried it.”

  “What makes you think I never tried it?” Alice asked, grinning.

  “You did?” Annie gaped at her friend. “I can’t believe it. I was scared to death of the lighthouse keeper. What was his name?”